Two Hawks Flying
by Khrysalis
Summary: Being finished at TR's request. Sano returns to Japan in trouble and learns just how far his friends will go to protect him. Warnings for violence and character abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note:

_This fanfiction was first begun by my cousin, who goes by Teigh Raisa on the site. She had small amounts of help from me at the beginning, mostly medical advice and a little help understanding things that might be going on inside Sanosuke's head, but she was the one with the idea and the one bringing it to life. But she doesn't find the act of writing as pleasurable as the act of reading, or so it would seem, from the frustrated way she would be pulling out her hair while she was working on her next chapter._

_So last night she asked me to finish the story for her. I made a few attempts to get her to continue on her own (she was doing just fine), she doesn't want to push it anymore, but she does want to see it finished. So, the kid proves once again that she has me wrapped around her finger a couple of times by wearing me down enough to agree._

_I've edited it only a little, using my preferred arrangement instead of hers, but it's mostly unchanged. This story will be different from the others really in only that the chapters won't be titled since she wasn't titling them in the original. These first three chapters are all hers, but it will be up to me at chapter four._

_So story is by **Teigh Raisa **and **Khrysalis**. Not as crazy as some of our brainchildren, but it may still entertain you.

* * *

_

Disclaimer: Creator of _Rurouni Kenshin_, Nobuhiro Watsuki. No profit is made by this fanfiction. Disclaimer applies to all chapters.

* * *

Two Hawks Flying

1

It had snowed for days. Then it had rained. Then the rain had frozen over the snow.

Sanosuke's chest heaved, eyes closing against the darkness he couldn't see through anyway. The rain beat down. Sheets of ice broke under his feet, cutting his ankles with sharp edges. There was no way to be silent, and no way to hear or see anything going on more than a few feet away from him.

The only thing the bitter cold did for him was dull the hurt, if not the throb, of the sword wounds. His luck lately had been like that of a scorned lover--not just simply content to desert him, but vindictively aiding the other side to make his life a living hell.

It wasn't exactly the way he wanted to come back to Tokyo.

He hesitated a moment, crouched in the darkest part of the streets, which were as empty for the late hour as they were for the hideous weather. His body was getting to the point that it was past shivering with the cold, but he _was _still cold. So cold. He clutched at a vigorously bleeding wound on his shoulder, knowing the morbid sensation of being warmed by one's own blood.

The pause could cost him, but he didn't know what to do next. His thoughts sped in two desperate directions, the lesser of which came with the fleeting idea of seeing Megumi at the Oguni Clinic.

He dismissed that thought almost before it had been completely formed. Megumi would have long ago skipped back to Aizu, and whether she would have been there or not, he wouldn't want to lead his…problem…right to her or the old man.

He wanted to get to Kenshin. There was the admission. It wasn't so much that his pride was wounded by the confession itself, exactly. He'd been in plenty of positions when it was clear that all rode on his friend, and it was a simple enough thing to admit that Kenshin was a much greater fighter--no shame at all in that. But it was a far different thing back when he was just trying to _help _Kenshin, fighting at his side, not bringing fights _to _him! Not running to him, weak and injured, looking for protection.

But he did need help. He was battered and weary, in no condition to fight against the unknown number of very competent swordsmen after him. He was fairly certain he'd brought this on himself, but his thoughts swam--blood loss? Infection? Fever? Any of it? All of it? Couldn't remember much of the last two days. A lot of fighting, running. He'd improved over the years--had not long ago been almost eager to show Kenshin, should there ever have been an opportunity. And who knew? Trouble appeared to follow the both of them rather faithfully.

He grinned ruefully. Trouble was faithful and luck was the spurned lover. Sano got himself moving again, reflecting that there was, perhaps, a third option for help. Yahiko might still be living in the place in the long house Sano had left to him before setting out years ago, but it was further than the dojo. He was being stupid enough as it was on several accounts. Kenshin wouldn't thank him for letting himself get cut down just a stone's throw away from home just because Sano was too embarrassed to wake him up in the middle of the night.

Again, he considered that this wasn't the return he'd imagined. He'd imagined locking his friends into huge hugs, seeing if Kenshin and Kaoru had kids by now, seeing if Yahiko had at least grown taller than Kenshin, maybe exploit the Akabeko for a few parties--or avoid it like hell if the unpaid tab was still at large. Probably so. If Tae had anything to fault, it wouldn't be her memory.

Or maybe she'd actually be so glad to see him, she'd--

He fell. Picked himself up quickly, stiffly. Vaguely realizing the touch of hard streets, seeing the profiles of structures…had he passed by this way a moment ago? Was he going in _circles_? His sense of direction had always been lousy, and he searched desperately for familiar landmarks. His years away were all but devastating to him now. Ice and snow crunched, broke, splintered with his steps. He fell again, felt an ice shard gouge his knee. There were shadows at the corner of his eye. He wasn't going to make it, not to anywhere.

A glint in the darkness, a flash he knew well. A sword coming, amazingly slow, seeming detached from the world but for a weak lamplight's glimmer giving it form from a few sparse houses where someone, somewhere was still awake.

And then, there was another shadow. An angry one, imposing itself between Sanosuke and the other faceless ones.

Sano blinked, wondering why they seemed so much taller. No, they weren't taller, he had fallen back. There was clashing of steel around him, but Sano had to close his eyes against the dizziness and the rainwater. It wasn't so cold anymore.

Hissing, howling, drumming on his head, steady roar in his ears. There was the clash of steel on steel, cold and hard and fierce. Who was that? Who had come? He squinted into the darkness, daring to hope. Kenshin…?

Someone approached him cautiously, in a new kind of silence that was loud over the rain. Where had the others gone?

A surprised intake of breath from above him. "Sanosuke?"

He didn't recognize the voice at first. A young voice, only recently having smoothed out the cracks of adolescence. But, he placed it with the next word it formed.

"Roosterhead?" A tentative question of disbelieved eyes and great concern.

Grinning in spite of it all, Sanosuke groped for a hand and found one of solid fingers with the inevitable sword calluses. Gripped his hand hard, muscles tight with uncertainty and worry.

Sano tried to listen to more questions that came, but it was all vague and unimportant right now. What the hell was _he _doing out here in the rain in the middle of the night?

Not that Sano was complaining or anything.

Heh…seemed like the kid did grow taller than Kenshin after all.


	2. Chapter 2

2

When Sanosuke opened his eyes, there was a small person sitting on his chest, peering into his face.

There were, of course, physical protests to the little guy's slight weight, but Sano stayed still. He blinked. Little boy was still there. Blinked again. He hadn't moved.

Was he in heaven…or hell? Because the child on his chest appeared to be, well…a "little Kenshin". A very miniature Kenshin, right down to an untidy mop of tied-back red hair flopping over his face and down his back. The eyes, behind bangs that needed trimming, were a shade of blue that was somehow both darker and more delicate than Kenshin's violet. No scars on his cheeks, at least.

Sano swallowed slowly as the youngster continued to stare down at him, wondering what he should say when the boy's weight lightened considerably, lifted off and away from him, and Sano found himself staring, with some relief, at the full-sized Kenshin he remembered.

The former rurouni's face was drawn tight with worry, then a measure of relief when he saw that Sano was awake. The both of them wordless with relief, they roughly clasped hands for a moment, Sanosuke both taking in and staving off the fact that he could hear the outside still being beaten down with rain and that it was still dark. How long had he been out, exactly? He felt dry and warm, so it had to have been a while.

"You hair is longer," was the first thing Kenshin said to him.

"Yours is shorter," was his reply, and he couldn't help the critical eyes that passed over the change. His hair was still long in the front, but had been shorn closer in the back. It wasn't an unbecoming hairstyle, it was just…different. Sano couldn't help feeling a moment of loss, but it was fleeting. He'd been through too much with Kenshin to know there was a possibility he could have come home to find that his friend had finally managed to fall to the sometimes insurmountable revenge and challenges that still haunted the shadow of Hitokiri Battousai. Next to the fact that Kenshin himself might not have been around, hair wasn't really that big of a deal.

Sano glanced at the "little Kenshin" balanced one of the "big Kenshin's" slender hips.

"This is a stupid question," Sano said slowly. "But he's yours, right?"

Amusement flickered over Kenshin's face as he nodded. "His name's Kenji. He wasn't supposed to be climbing on you."

The kid smiled sleepily at the eyes that flicked to him, completely unapologetic. Looked like he took some after Kaoru, then, as well. And there was no doubt in Sano's mind that if the boy was Kenshin's, then he was also Kaoru's.

"Sanosuke, are you all right?" Kenshin's eyes hardened ever so slightly, and there was likewise a sharpness to his question that both conveyed his great worry and his need to get answers, in no uncertain terms.

Sanosuke sighed and shifted his body slightly, both trying to take stock of himself and avoid the question for a few seconds longer. He could feel the resistance of bandages on his wounds, an especially tight-packed one on the bad stab in his shoulder. There was a light-headedness of medicine that had made him thirsty, but he didn't feel up to trying to keep even water down just now. He was at the dojo. He knew it by sight and scent, surprising himself by realizing how much he had missed the place. The futon was incredibly warm and comfortable, especially when compared with how he had spent the last few days and nights…

It wasn't polite to answer a question with another question, but Sanosuke was never very concerned with manners. "Is Yahiko all right?"

"Not a scratch," Kenshin said, quick to assure, but somehow at the same time, very terse. "Sano…you're hurt badly. What happened to you? Yahiko said you were being chased down by a group of swordsman."

They were good swordsman, too. Nothing on Kenshin's level, nor, apparently at this moment in time, Yahiko's, but they knew which end of the sword to hold. And they knew how to work together, with both each other and the shadows. Teamwork had definitely been their strength, and had nearly taken Sano down. Mutual underestimation was the reason he'd been hurt and also the reason he was still alive.

He thought about delaying the inevitable again with another question, this time of curiosity to know just how good Yahiko had gotten while he'd been away, but the look on Kenshin's face told him he'd better just stop beating around the bush. Kenshin didn't like it when his friends were hurt. Kenshin was tense and worried and maybe even a little angry, but there was nothing to direct these feelings to, no plans or courses of action without some kind of information.

"What happened to me…?" Sanosuke repeated, staring up at the ceiling as if he might find a way to explain there. "It's…my own fault, Kenshin. Don't worry about it. Just…give me a day to rest up a bit, and then I need to get out of here--"

"You'll do no such thing!"

Both men glanced at the opened doorway, where the pissed-off kenjutsu instructor stood. She came further into the room, where Sano could see her better, and to his relief, she, at least, hadn't changed much at all, except maybe to fill out a little in all the right places.

She went off on a tangent. Of course she did. Sano barely listened, found himself grinning weakly, sheepishly in her general direction, since the gist of what she was saying was all he needed to know anyway. She was worried. She was angry. And he didn't have sense enough to come home by knocking on the front gate bearing gifts for them from his travels like a decent, thoughtful person. No, instead, he had been dragged home by Yahiko, soaking with blood and rain and encrusted with ice and bogged down with fever they had spent the whole day fighting off, she said.

He thought about apologizing, but couldn't get a word in edgewise. He looked to Kenshin for help, but his friend only shrugged. _Better to just ride it out, _Kenshin said with his eyes.

"--and if you think you're going to just leave, you've got another round of thinking coming!" she finished, folding to her knees beside Kenshin.

"It's good to see you, too, Jou-chan," Sano said.

Her eyes softened just a little with light guilt, but it was still a fairly withering stare.

"What did you do this time, Roosterhead?" she demanded. "Quit stalling and spit it out."

Kenshin, beside her, only smiled slightly, encouragingly at Sano, a little island of peace in a potential sea of wrath. But his eyes were serious. He, too, wanted to know, and Sano's obvious reluctance to talk only worried him more.

Sanosuke let out a long breath, wondering where to begin when he noticed that Yahiko wasn't there. Aside from the his shadowy figure in the darkness and rain and the feel of his hand and the tone of his changed voice, Sano hadn't actually seen him, and he would have come running in to help the other two squeeze him for answers had he been anywhere nearby--unless his personality had changed drastically with a few more years of maturity. He doubted very much that it had.

"Where's Yahiko?"

Kaoru's hands twitched like she was making a great effort not to pounce on him and wrap them around his neck. Kenshin's only reaction of frustration was a slight bending of the right corner of his lips, like he'd taken the inside corner of it between his teeth before answering.

"He went out to look for the men who--"

"He _what_?" Sano was trying to claw his way out of the many blankets placed atop him, with two sets of hands, three if you counted Kenji's, though he was only holding them out to keep from toppling from his father's lap, were trying to hold him down. "You let the kid go out there all by himself?"

Kaoru said, "Sanosuke, Yahiko's more than capable of--"

"I don't care if Yahiko's so good now he can kick Kenshin's ass blindfolded, with one hand tied to his belt and his feet shackled together!" Sano shouted, not so upset that he didn't notice the slow blink of Kenshin's eyes to his remark. "You don't know what these guys can--how could you just--"

"He is no longer a child," Kenshin said softly.

There was a lot of meaning there, as well, Sanosuke suddenly knew. The shadow in the rain was not cast by the ten-year-old he remembered, and Kenshin and Kaoru wouldn't have the hold of youth on him any longer. Maybe he'd defer to their experience, maybe his own respect of them, but Sano had been hurt, had men ganging up on him in a weakened condition. The kid's blood had probably been up, and Sano wouldn't have been able to blame him if it was. He would have reacted the same way, lingering out in the rain waiting for the chance to show those guys what it meant to harm someone _he _cared about.

But, still…

Firmly laid back by his friends, Sano watched as Kaoru straightened his covers, tucking them in around him in a motherly fashion she probably used on her own son. He realized how much he'd missed them, just in the small movements, the concerned eyes, patiently waiting to hear his story, already imposing themselves to help, without even knowing what was going on.

He closed his eyes briefly. "I've…done something," he said.

* * *

The rain falling on the layers of ice and snow was causing flooding in some places. Wherever the streets dipped, or were paved with brick or stone not meant to absorb were the worst.

Myojin Yahiko swore quietly to himself. He hadn't had the urge to swear in a while, but there was plenty of cause, especially for some of the choice phrases coming back to him from his days with the yakuza.

He just couldn't get the image of Sanosuke out of his mind. His friend, one of the few men he respected more than any other--even if he wouldn't directly say that _to_ Sano--had toppled onto the frozen street, peppered with bloody gaps in his shoulders, his sides, legs, gashes across his chest, clothes sliced up. Not merely ripped or torn, but _sliced_. By swords. Five swordsmen, advancing in the night, ganging up on an unarmed man. An unarmed man who, without it even being a good day, had a skill that could reduce them into little pieces of blood and gore and bits of bone. Not that he believed Sano would ever kill a man in such a way, but it was definitely a possibility. If he wanted to, he could.

Yahiko had dispatched them easily enough. Two hadn't even bothered to fight back, just collecting a couple of their comrades who stumbled back and fading away into the shadows and the sheets of rain. He didn't bother to follow. Getting Sanosuke out of the rain and his wounds patched had been far more important.

But he was alive, and Kenshin had said he'd be fine. Yahiko had, in fact, not been all that worried that Sano would survive. Yahiko had seen with his own eyes what Sano had said before many times: the roosterhead's strong point was his incredible durability. But he'd looked like he'd been through something, and Yahiko shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn't been at the right place at the right time.

Passing under through the dingy, narrow streetways where he had encountered the swordsmen, Yahiko shuddered. Like an incredibly silly adolescent, he had been wandering around in the rain, which had both soothed and made worse his stricken heart. Remembering how he'd seen his sweet-faced Tsubame laughing and talking to and feeling at ease around that guy at Akabeko a few days ago was still enough to boil his blood, and watching her spending more and more time with him was enough to turn it into curdled milk.

He snorted, running a hand down his face, keeping his eyes and ears attuned to the shadows. At least something good had come of it. He wouldn't have been there for Sanosuke if he'd been sleeping contentedly in his own bed at home.

But there was still not a sight nor sound nor sense of those swordsmen anywhere, and it was even more irritating than the image of Tsubame's smile as she looked up at the new guy.

No. No, not now, he berated himself. Distractions could be deadly, and the others were counting on him. Yahiko set his hand on the hilt of the sakabato, reaffirming his amazement at the over-rich honor Kenshin had given him, stepping aside subtly as protector. Subtly, in that he would take back up the role if need be, but leaving this decision, this job to Yahiko.

He'd worked hard to try to find something to show for that trust, but the unrelenting rain had washed away all traces, and even when sunlight had bled through with the brief daylight, there had not even been one sighting of the swordsmen. It had simply been too late, too dark, and too miserable for anyone to even think of looking out the window looking for attempts of murder.

Yahiko sneezed once, shivering as the wind began to blow the rain sideways. It was about time to give up for now, he decided. If the men he was looking for had one iota of sense, they'd be sitting somewhere dry right now, not trudging ankle-deep in ice shards and snow sludge. Yahiko seldom got sick, but this was just asking for it.

Two steps were taken in the direction of home when they came to him. His senses snapped back on him with the irritation that of course they would come just as he decided he was finished waiting for them. Four instead of five this time, they moved almost in unison, an attempt to box him in using part of the street as a bulwark. They were dressed in black, and their faces and hands were bare, seeming pale and disembodied. It was eerie, but Yahiko had seen too much to be intimidated by such a thing.

"Tell us," the tallest one murmured over the sound of the weather. "Are you with Sagara?"

"A little brother, perhaps?" another inquired. Quite calmly, even politely.

Yahiko drew the sakabato smoothly, wondering how he should answer these. What would Kenshin say? "Sagara Sanosuke is my friend," he said after a quiet moment. "And any attempts to get at him will be through me."

That sounded close enough.

There was a delicate flicker of amusement through the four. It wasn't mocking laughter, just a soft voicing of amusement. "Did I say something funny?"

"Yes," the tall one said again. "Sagara dies last. All that he cares for is to die before him. We thought we'd gotten them all, but it looks like we were wrong. So you see young man, we _are _going through you before we move on to Sagara."

Yahiko's grip was white-knuckled on the hilt of the sakabato, but he couldn't help but to grin at the figures through the rain, whether they could see it or not. He was accustomed to being underestimated, and just as accustomed to making others regret underestimating him. There were four instead of the five of last night, which meant that he had injured one to the point of not being able to accompany the others. Fine by him, but you'd think he'd have gotten an ounce of respect for it at least.

It hardly mattered now. These men had admitted to murdering some of Sanosuke's friends, but they were about to find out that the friends Sano had in Tokyo were no pushovers.

"Then come at me," Yahiko invited. "If you think you can."


	3. Chapter 3

3

Sano had changed.

Kenshin had seen the changes before Sano had woken up, when they'd had him undressed and uncovered, cleaning out his wounds and wrapping them. His hair had indeed grown longer, and there was the roughness of stubble about his chin, where before he had gone smooth. The same familiar red bandana, worn and shredded. He had always been very tall and lanky, but muscle had grown onto his long limbs, filling out his body. The last hints of boyishness had been carved from his features by time and care. His body had new scars. Thin and white against the tan of his skin. Old burn scars on his left bicep and chest, flattish, upraised and shiny. The last two fingers of his right hand were curled and wouldn't lie completely flat when Kenshin had taken his hand to wash the grime away, a sure sign that he had injured the hand once or twice more when he'd been on the continent and wherever else he might have traveled.

He spoke in his sleep a little, face scrunching as he reached out beside him, searching. Once, Kenshin caught his hand and held it, listened as Sano murmured, "Emirii…" and relaxed into peaceful sleep again.

And Kenshin had a sense that something terrible had happened. Maybe it was when he'd heard Yahiko shouting and had ran out into the rain to help carry Sano into the house. Maybe it was the jolt of touching his friend's ice cold skin, a brief scare that had him fumbling for a pulse. Maybe it was the way Sano had drawn comfort from the clasp of his hand, the name he said that had brought him rest.

Or maybe it was, far more simply, this being the first sign or word from their friend in several years, unless one counted a battered and yellowed letter than reached them two years before. In a moment of thoughtfulness, the former fight merchant at least wanted everyone to know that he was alive, assured them of his well-being. Then not another word. Kenshin didn't worry. His missed Sano, hoped for his happiness, but he didn't worry. One just simply didn't have to worry about Sano.

But there were exceptions to every rule.

Kenji was insatiably curious about Sano. Kenshin and Kaoru, and once in a while, Yahiko, had made an effort that Sano wouldn't be entirely a stranger to the youngster when he returned. And Sano _would _return. He had promised, after all, and few things were as important to Sanosuke as his friends.

So stories of their former fight merchant were told to Kenji almost before he was really old enough to understand them, until Sano was instilled into the household as easily as an absent but very beloved brother and uncle. It figured that the last time Kenshin went to check on Sano and found him awake it would be with Kenji leaning over into his face like a cat.

And now…

"I've done something," Sano had said, and had opened his eyes to look into Kenshin's, a plea for understanding in them.

_I've done something._

And Kenshin _worried_. But not so much about what Sano might have done, but rather the beginnings of fear deep within his friend.

"Sano, don't you know there's nothing you can confess that would cast you away from us?"

Both Sanosuke and Kenshin looked at Kaoru, who was smiling warmly down on Sano, two fingers tapping the place over her heart for emphasis.

A moment of silence stretched with Sano looking at ceiling again.

"They killed my…they killed Emirii," he said.

That name again, the one whispered in his sleep. "Who was Emirii, Sano?"

"My…I was going to marry her." Sano still stared at the ceiling. "I though…we thought there was maybe a kid on the way, but even if there wasn't, I was going to marry her."

He sagged a little into his pillow, as if those brief sentences had tired him out past even his own amazing endurance. The only sound for a while was the heavy breathing of Kenji, asleep in his father's arms.

"Met Emi on the mainland," he continued. "Pretty thing. Half Chinese. She'd been struck by lightning when she was a child, had a white streak in her hair. Beautiful eyes, big, pale golden-brown. Sweet smile. Had a weird family, but nice people. Peaceful people. Tolerated me."

There was another long moment of silence.

"Ever hear that metaphor about a black sheep?" Sano asked quietly. "One different in a flock of many? That was her brother. They were twins. She was older by fifteen minutes, they said. Emi loved him, but she was the only one who did. Couldn't really stand him myself. Had a smart mouth on him, no respect for anyone, not even himself… I tried to ignore him a lot because I knew we'd just get into fights otherwise, and I didn't want to upset Emi…you know…"

There was another long pause, and again, neither Kenshin nor Kaoru moved or shifted.

"You know…" he said again, his voice hollow and somehow personal, as though he'd forgotten that there was someone besides himself in the room to hear, "I told her once everyone used to call me 'roosterhead' back at home. Thought it might make her laugh. But she didn't think it was funny. Instead, she said she thought I reminded her more of a hawk." He smiled sadly. "Silly girl, but…took me a long time to realize she wasn't teasing.

"Then her stupid brother, Masanori…he's a troublemaker, yeah? Or he used to be, but I guess he got tired of not being taken seriously. Joined up with a band of mountain bandits fighting rival gangs, like that was going to make something of him. He pissed off one too many people and his family--and Emirii--paid the price."

Sanosuke's hands curled into fists. "Happened while I was away. Came back to find their graves all lined next to each other, and when I found out what had happened I--" His eyes widened as he looked to Kenshin. "I…stopped thinking."

Strong words. Weak voice. But Kenshin understood. Blinded by grief and rage, Sano had gone after the ones who had done it. It was as simple--and as devastating--as that.

"Did you kill Masanori?" Kaoru asked quietly.

Sanosuke shook his head. "No. I didn't learn the punk was the cause until…afterward. He…looked too much like Emi anyway. I don't think I could hit him even if he was here right now. Not in the face, anyway."

"So the men who were after you are from one of these rival gangs?" Kenshin asked.

"I guess. I was all the way back in Japan before I even knew anyone was after me. If I'd known, I wouldn't have come back here and brought trouble to you guys."

Kaoru smacked him lightly upside the head. "Idiot. You're our friend, Sano. You're part of our family. You should know by now you can _always _come to us when you need help!"

Kenshin nodded his agreement, catching Sano's eye. He said, "These aren't just ordinary mountain bandits…or street gangs…are they?"

"No. I don't know all that much about it, other than it's wild and it's organized. Both at the same time. Got this guy who was raised by mountain bandits looking after the whole thing named Dodonpa. He's wild, too, but smart. Anybody who followed him got wealthy, so he's got some serious loyalty on his side."

"Did you kill him?"

"No. His son. Dodonpa's aim is to collect a complete debt of life from me for taking his only family. Since my intended and her family were gone, he sent goons after that idiot Masanori, and killed some gambling pals I had out on the town, anyone they thought I might care about in the slightest. I decided to get the hell out before anyone else got hurt because of me, and started making my way back to Japan, figuring he wouldn't be so willing to leave his home turf himself and just send some goons I could take out pretty easily. I was wrong. The guys he sent after me are pretty good.

"But, see, this is why I can't stay, Jou-chan. I have to get out of here, before you get caught up in all of this."

"_No_, Sanosuke," Kaoru said.

"But--"

"You heard what I said."

"_Listen_, Jou-chan, I made a huge mistake! I let my grief do the thinking for me and bit off a hell of a lot more than I could chew." He rapidly looked from Kenshin's face to Kaoru's and back again. "I don't know what you might have been up to these last few years, but I had no right to come bumbling around here and destroying your peace. It's my sin…and I'll pay for it alone."

"And just when did you ever let _me _go it alone?" Kenshin asked, and leaned forward slightly to look Sano squarely in the eye.

Sano rolled his eyes back to the ceiling. "Why are you two so stubborn?"

"Why are _you_?" Kaoru muttered, glancing at the clock by the wall. "Where's Yahiko? I told him to be back before midnight."

Sano swore vividly, and Kenshin put a hand on his shoulder to warn him against trying to sit up again. "Sano, you'll do us no good if you tear open those wounds again."

"The kid might be in trouble. I've seen the way these guys move. I don't know what kind of training they have, but it's like they always know what each other is thinking. It's just…eerie. I can't explain it."

* * *

Yahiko dodged the two simultaneous thrusts again, cursing Kenshin lightly for not passing on his abilities to predict moves, even if Yahiko had been developing his senses on his own, more or less.

But this was just…uncanny. Of the four of them, they had paired off and moved in absolute sync. This, he'd thought at first, might have made them easier to predict, but it was just the opposite. They had ever-moving, swaying stances that were distracting and hypnotic. Their attacks were revoltingly disjointed, and he thought it might be possible to become seasick from watching them.

And still, for all the possibility of choreography, he still could never seem to guess what they were about to do until they had almost done it.

The rain and ice and water were a hindrance as well, a steady flood rising in the lower parts of the streets. Yahiko was beginning to realize that he might need help as he backed further away, since he could do little except defend himself. He parried blows as they licked out, but was unable to manage more than that, unable to switch to offensive. What sort of fighting style _was _this?

Another twenty minutes passed, and he backed up slowly to avoid their coordination. It occurred to him that he was being herded, and he began to look for a way to break out of the little routine they had settled into. He watched their movements, looking for patterns and found none.

In another situation, Yahiko might have been enjoying the challenge. But he had been out in the cold too long, and his nerves were tight as bowstrings. He didn't like the sense of the men that advanced on him, either. They were calm, but not especially assured. They almost seemed sad in their "duty", light expressions of regret in the flashes of eyes and the parting of their mouths as they moved in and out around him.

_Herding_ him.

* * *

Kenshin had laid his son down in his bed, and had quickly dressed in only a few minutes. Sano had been distraught, absolutely adamant about the dangers Yahiko could be facing.

For Sano, it had been an oddity to see Kenshin without a sword at his side, and he'd asked after it, then nearly lost control of his mouth when Kenshin confessed passing it on to Yahiko not all that long ago.

"What are you going to _fight _with, then?" Sano demanded, and had to be wrestled back into bed again, with Kaoru threatening to sit on his chest if he so much as looked like he was thinking of getting back up.

They were still arguing when Kenshin slipped away to put Kenji down, still arguing when he slipped out into the rain. The brief stop at the dojo almost didn't happen, like as not he could need a weapon. He couldn't use any of the decorative katana, so he chose one of the smooth lengths of the wooden swords that Kaoru usually favored. It was heavier and more familiar in his hand that the weight or feel of the _shinai_, but still felt strange where he slipped it into his belt. It was too light, and without the heavy security of a sheath. Completely useless for _battoujutsu_, but wiser to take it along than to go out with nothing.

He was drenched in icy water in an instant, feeling treacherous footing underneath his sandals. Yahiko should have come back a long time ago.

He had only taken a step from his porch when he sensed him. A lone man, just arrived, with a decent sword aura. Decent. Not especially bad, nor especially good. Not challenging or malevolent, either. Only waiting.

Kenshin rested his hand on the unfamiliar wooden sword, his teeth putting a little pressure on each other. So, they knew that Sanosuke was here. Chances were good that they knew about Kaoru and Kenji. But then, he had been fairly assured of that since Sano told him about the debt of life sought on him. Yet to have a single one here, spying…

Kaoru had _more _than decent skills, and at face value, could dispatch this one swordsman by herself without trouble.

But…Himura Kenshin knew better than to take things at face value. Damn it. Yahiko might have to wait. He took a few steps from the porch, then jumped straight into the air, landing neatly on the roof.

There was a young man there. He looked quietly surprised to have been discovered, but it was shown in no more than a couple of blinks of his eyes. He was dressed in black, had long hair that was _very _prematurely streaked with white, and had a good old-fashioned _daisho_ at his side, looking strange thrust into a belt of skin-tight clothing instead of any sort of formal samurai wear.

"Who are you and what are you doing?" Kenshin asked shortly.

The young man blinked again, then smiled slowly, a puckering of dimples on his youthful face. "Chang Masanori," he introduced himself. "I was seeking the man who might have been my brother-in-law. Are you a friend of Sagara Sanosuke?"

Kenshin allowed several seconds to pass, staring at the young man through the rain and the waft of mists where the frigid air met the heat of the house fires. He had the same long and light golden-brown eyes and the sweet smile Sano had used to describe his intended. He had a Chinese roundness to his face, an accent from the continent, but Japanese eyes and style to his hair and stance. He looked, perhaps, as evenly cross-bred as his name suggested.

"It had been this one's understanding that you had been killed by one called Dodonpa."

"More or less," Masanori said evenly, his smile fading. "He _believes _he killed me, and that's why I'm still alive. Sanosuke's inside, right?"

"Sanosuke wouldn't be especially happy to see you," Kenshin predicted.

The young man huffed juvenilely. "He wouldn't hit me, not as long as I have my sister's face." He thrust up both thumbs and smiled widely. "That's how he always is."

"This one feels he knows Sano far better than you, if you believe that," Kenshin said softly. Sano had, in fact, said he didn't think he could hit Masanori because he looked so much like his twin sister Emirii--but Sano was good at "getting over" such impediments. He would see Emirii and Emirii and Masanori as Masanori, and that would be that.

"I appreciate your concern--"

"It's not concern for you. It's concern for him. Sano would have a difficult time forgiving himself if he harmed Emirii-dono's brother when she had cared for him so."

Masanori's face twisted in anger. "Shut up! What do you know about my sister?"

"This one knows it is the fault of her brother than she and her family are dead."

The young man's anger rose ardently on his pale face, and he bent slightly, as if he might spring to attack. Then, with obvious effort, he forced himself to calm down.

"I never meant," he said tightly, "for anyone to get hurt. I always thought _I_ was the only one who would be in danger if I screwed up or angered the wrong people. I never meant for any of this to happen, especially not to Emi. Sanosuke is…he's the last chance I have to redeem myself in my sister's eyes." Masanori spread his hands wide in appeal. "I don't care what everyone else thinks of me. They can hate me, they can try to kill me. I wouldn't care if they succeeded. But not Emi. I don't want her to hate me. If I find a way to protect Sanosuke, then, even if she doesn't _love _me anymore…" He swallowed hard. "Then at least she won't _hate _me for what I've done to her.

"So, please. I just want to help Sanosuke. For Emirii."

* * *

They got first blood.

A blade from behind, right through his bicep. The arm wasn't completely useless, with a force of will, but it hurt like hell, bled vigorously. Yahiko was getting tired. They were wearing him down.

It was irritating by far, but they just fought so damn weirdly! If they'd knock off the nonsense and fought him honorably, he'd have a chance.

Yahiko changed his tactics many times, trying to shift the balance his way, but the only time he had been able to create any sort of offense at all was when he started employing a little flight. With high jumps, he'd started bouncing erratically on roofs, even brought the four down to three with a _Ryusuisen _that he had to admit was more luck as badly as he was aiming by then.

Leaving the injured one behind, the three began to move in unison, circling him. He was out of energy, and they knew it.

But they also seemed to believe him dangerous, and kept their distance. In fact, he was surprised by the way they had backed up before he caught another shadow out of the corner of his eye.

Whipping wet hair out of his eyes, Yahiko backed up sideways, trying to keep all his opponents in his sight.

The new man was one he hadn't seen before. Dressed similarly to the others, he was bigger and broader. Yahiko had not seen him when Sanosuke had been attacked.

The newcomer's skin was much darker than his fellows, and his voice deep and rumbling as he said, "You little cowards. Could you not simply take him?"

"No, sir," came a soft, sullen reply. "He is crafty."

Yahiko bit the inside of his lip to avoid smirking. _Crafty_, was he?

"Fine. Leave him to me."

A sword was drawn, glinting dully, and without any further word or warning, he attacked.

Reflexes Yahiko had worked hard to develop saved him, legs and feet springing back, carrying him out of harm's way.

The big man kept coming, swinging the blade from side to side. It made an almost ringing sound as it passed through the air, followed by a soft _thukk _as it bit into the support of a porch, slowly on slightly.

Yahiko raised the sakabato.

The man moved his blade into an attack position.

His hand twitched then and Yahiko's blade was almost simultaneously beaten aside. He parried the ensuing thrust and the dark man brushed his riposte aside and was at him again.

This time Yahiko didn't bother to counter. He simply parried and leapt back, baring his teeth in effort.

"You fight well, my boy. Such skill, and yet so much unfulfilled potential. Sagara shall go to hell in shame for your death alone."

Yahiko stood his ground and held it as the man attacked again. He returned blow for blow as fast as he could, seeking openings everywhere. There were none.

"Tell me what Sanosuke has done!" he demanded.

But his opponent seemed to be finished with talking. He pressed forward and Yahiko had to fall back once more. It was like trying to duel a glacier.

The man drove him back steadily, and he dodged among thin cherry trees and supports. Yahiko made the mistake of attacking once when he should have been defending and barely stopped a counterthrust inches from his breast.

Yahiko, with not many options left to him, began to experiment. He left the man a small opening, just for a moment, knowing that he would come right through it and straight toward his heart.

He did, and Yahiko parried it at the last instant, then began to yield once more, backing up, giving ground. Parrying and retreating, he fell back another fifteen feet or so, fighting defensively, conservatively.

Then he gave the man another opening.

He dove in, as he had before, and Yahiko managed to stop him again. The big man pressed the attack even harder after that, driving Yahiko ever back.

Anger flashed through Yahiko as he realized he was being herded again, and he stubbornly stopped and held his ground. Long, rough moments went by under the song of steel, both swordsmen fighting furiously.

Then Yahiko gave the opening one final time.

He knew it would be the same as before, and Yahiko's right leg was across and back behind his left, then straightening, he gave his opponent's blade the barest beat to the side as he sprang backward, immediately extending the full length of his arm, _sakabato _gleaming even in the weak light.

He did as Yahiko hoped, beating at the blade and advanced normally when Yahiko dropped to one knee and swept his other leg out.

With a grunt of surprise, the swordsman went down. Victory was within his grasp, but then Yahiko made the mistake of taking one more step backwards.

He stepped on something hard and uneven on the ground, there was a loud squeal and a thunderous snap and pain such he had ever known flooded through him, beginning at the thick metal teeth of a steel-spring trap that had sunk deeply into his left leg.

A cry of agony and rage tore from his throat, and acting on instinct and desperation, he dug his fingers into the spaces between bloody flesh and clothing and steel, trying to pry the trap from his tortured limb. All that talk about cowards and not being able to "simply take him", just to guide him into this dishonorable _trap_? He didn't even see the hilt that came down on his left ear before he crumpled into the icy sludge, mercifully freed, even if only temporarily, from the pain.


End file.
